


Is Anyone Else Seeing This?

by crookedsilence



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming Out, Dumb Hockey Boys, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedsilence/pseuds/crookedsilence
Summary: JT wouldn't say he is the smartest in the room, but he went to college. He's not dumb.----A sequel toReckless, Just Enough
Relationships: Nathan MacKinnon/Cale Makar
Comments: 10
Kudos: 152





	Is Anyone Else Seeing This?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and I make no profit for it.
> 
> This is written in the Reckless, Just Enough universe, which disregards the July 1 trades and still has Kerf and Tyson playing in Colorado.

JT watches Nate follow Cale to the fire pit, trailing just a half-step behind like he’s the rookie. There aren’t enough chairs, most already occupied by various teammates, so Nate waves at Cale to take the last one and drops to sit in the space between his legs. He looks comfortable, completely in his element as he leans back.

“Nate’s acting pretty weird, right?” JT asks, turning to look at Tyson just as he decides to cram the other half of his hot dog in his mouth. “Gross.”

“Mfpdg.”

Crumbs fly through the air, and JT gets a good look at the wet mash of bread and meat in his mouth. Disgusting.

“How old are you, man? Swallow before trying to talk.”

Tyson smiles around the mouthful, chewing obnoxiously in JT’s ear. “That’s what she said,” he finally replies, and JT has never been more disappointed in him.

“God, I don’t know how you’re able to dress or feed yourself when you’re making the same jokes you did in middle school.”

“It’s a classic!” Tyson protests, and JT rolls his eyes.

“It’s really not,” he grumbles but lets the subject drop. “Seriously, though, look at Nate. That’s weird, right?”

Spinning to stare because he wouldn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass, Tyson takes in the group seated around the fire, Cale in his chair and Nate at his feet, and he shrugs. “He seems to be acting pretty normal to me.”

JT scoffs. “What? No way. Nothing about this is normal. Dude, look at him,” he repeats, waving to where Nate now has a hand wrapped around the rookie’s ankle. “That’s not normal. That is like the furthest thing from normal.”

Tyson squints, head tilting to the side. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t—” JT groans in frustration. This shouldn’t be difficult, should really be quite simple. “Nate is all over the rookie, all over him! He’s not even like that with Big Tyson, and they’ve been best buddies since he was drafted. You have to admit that’s pretty weird.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to make him feel welcome,” Tyson says, and he reaches over to steal some of the chips from JT’s plate.

“Hey! Get your own.”

Lip curling ridiculously, Tyson pouts. “But I don’t want to walk all the way to the table, and you have too many anyways.”

His eyes are big and pleading, and JT has always been a sucker, so he nudges the plate over. “I’ve never seen him welcome a rookie like that before. I don’t remember him delicately stroking my leg when I joined the team.”

“Someone sounds bitter,” Tyson retorts without even looking over to where Nate is rubbing a hand up and down Cale’s calf like it’s something he does every day.

“Shut up.”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe Gabe told him he needs to be friendlier or something, so his resting bitch face doesn’t scare all the new kids.”

That seems unlikely. Nate can be pretty tough sometimes, especially on the ice or in the weight room, but he’s always chill at team events like this, relaxed and comfortable with a beer in hand.

“Maybe,” JT concedes, but he keeps an eye on them for the rest of the night, taking stock of Nate’s strange behavior and Cale’s easy acceptance of the invasion of his space.

He sees the way Nate tilts his head back to say something to Cale, watches Cale bend forward to listen, one hand sliding over Nate’s shoulder, and he doesn’t understand how Nate is so comfortable with his head that close to another dude’s dick.

He observes how Cale runs a hand through his hair, thoughtless and familiar, and how Nate almost pushes into it like he doesn’t want him to let go.

He notices the way Nate’s eyes light up when Cale asks for a ride home when everyone starts to leave, and he sees the way Cale blushes when EJ makes some joke about dessert.

The whole night leaves JT with an awful lot of questions that no one else seems bothered to ask.

\----

“They have matching costumes,” JT informs Kerf when he finally locates him in the crush of bodies.

“What?” is the yelled response, music nearly drowning it out.

“They have matching costumes!”

“Who?”

“Nate and Cale! They have matching costumes!”

Kerf immediately rolls his eyes, and JT takes offense because that’s unnecessary. “Dude, stop being so obsessed with this.”

“They have matching costumes! Matching. Costumes.”

Kerf presses his drink into JT’s hand and pats his shoulder. “Who cares? Why won’t you let them be friends, man?”

The drink is a weird color, almost glowing a sickly green in the darkness of the house, but JT takes a sip anyways, grimacing at the bitter, medicinal flavor. “I am letting them be friends!”

A single raised brow is the reply.

“I am!” JT repeats, but he knows he sounds like a grumpy toddler. “I just don’t understand when they became friends. And I don’t get why Big Tyson doesn’t seem bothered by the new kid stealing his spot! That doesn’t seem like typical Tyson behavior.”

“And you’re an expert on Tyson behavior?”

“We live with one, man!” JT points out, arms waving wildly, and he spills some of his possibly-radioactive drink on Grubi, who gives him the saddest fucking look.

JT is distracted from the conversation by trying to convince Grubs that it was an accident and that he didn’t mean to ruin his costume and that no, he has nothing against traditional German fairytales.

By the time Grubi is assuaged, Kerf has disappeared into the crowd like the friend-ditcher he is, and JT looks around morosely, scanning the faces for Tyson, who will probably let him rant about his “wild conspiracy theories” for at least ten or fifteen minutes, more if he makes sure to bring a fresh drink with him.

He catches sight of Cale across the room though, nodding to whatever Sammy is saying in the accent that gets incomprehensibly thick after a few drinks, and JT decides he should go say hi. It’s rare to get Cale alone after all.

He makes his way through the press of bodies, laughing at EJ’s awful dance moves and Big Tyson’s fist-pumping, and does his best to avoid being dragged into anything, though someone definitely grinds on him for a couple seconds before he is able to escape.

By the time he is through, Sammy has left, and JT tries to walk a little faster.

“Cale!” someone shouts. “Cale, Cale!”

Nate appears out of nowhere and drapes himself over Cale’s shoulders, pressing close and clingy and stealing a sip from Cale’s drink. JT corrects his course just slightly and goes for a refill of the neon punch.

Cale wraps an arm around Nate’s waist to steady him, lips splitting in a fond smile. “How much have you had?”

“Not that much,” Nate grumbles into his neck, and JT tries not to stare too openly at the way his lips brush Cale’s skin. “Just like, two or three.”

“Two or three beers? Or two or three cups of that shitty punch?”

Nate pulls away, lips twisting in a frown. “It’s not that bad. It’s an acqu—akw—aqcuer—”

“Acquired taste?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he sighs. “You’re so smart.”

He reaches down and pats at Cale’s ass.

His hand lingers.

JT stares.

“Hey Cale?”

“Hmm?”

“You have a nice butt.”

Cale laughs, easy and open, and he doesn’t move Nate’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Don’t laugh!” he scowls, but it’s softened by the dopey look in his eyes and the smile he can’t quite disguise. “I’m serious. It’s a nice butt, a really nice butt.”

“Thanks.” Cale wraps a hand around his wrist to pull it away, and Nate whines in protest.

JT almost drops his drink in shock.

“I wanna touch. Let me touch.”

“No,” Cale says through a laugh, setting his drink aside to catch Nate’s other hand when it tries to sneak behind him and cop a feel.

“Please,” Nate pleads, and Cale is giggling almost uncontrollably as Nate fights weakly against his grip. “Please, please, please.”

“Nate, stop,” he laughs. “I think that punch is a lot stronger than you think, and it’s gone to your head.”

“You’ve gone to my head,” Nate retorts nonsensically, and Cale shakes his head, looking exasperated but affectionate.

“No.”

With a wicked smirk, Nate surges forward, and JT mouth drops because there’s no way Nate’s about to—that he’s going to—

Shit.

He presses close and whispers lowly Cale’s ear, a hand sliding out of his grasp to wrap around his waist and drag him closer. Cale’s eyes widen, and his cheeks flush a deep red as he listens to Nate, fingers clutching at his jacket, twisting in the fabric.

When Nate pulls back, he’s grinning, and it stretches wider when Cale mutters a response, too quiet for JT to have any chance of hearing. Nate nods and pats at Cale’s ass one more time, then disappears back into the crowd without another word.

JT forces his mouth shut.

What the fuck kind of friends are they?

\----

After the game, Gabe peels his jersey off and dumps it on Nate’s head with a cheerful grin. Nate squawks, tugging the jersey off and chucking it to the floor.

Gabe gasps. “How dare you disrespect our colors!”

“You disrespect our colors every time you’re on the ice,” Nate snips back and goes to pull his own jersey off, tossing it into the bin along with Gabe’s.

“Is that any way to speak to your captain, Nathan?”

“I’m your A,” Nate retorts. “It’s kind of my job to keep your head from getting any bigger than it already is.”

With a huff, Gabe starts in on his pads.

When they’re stripped down to their underarmour, sweaty pads hanging in their stalls, Gabe turns to Nate. “You ditching us tonight?” he asks quietly, words barely more than a murmur.

“Yeah, we’re going to grab something to eat and head over to the house.”

“Are you staying there for the night?”

“Probably.”

Gabe nods but doesn’t say anything more, and JT is really fucking confused because where the hell is Nate going in Calgary? He’s from the east coast, probably doesn’t even know anyone who isn’t a hockey player in this city, so unless he’s going to hang out with Sean Monahan, JT really doesn’t know who he could be going to see.

Gabe and Nate make their way to the showers, and JT sits in his locker, trying to puzzle out the conversation.

He’s unsuccessful and eventually moves to the showers as well.

The thought doesn’t leave him alone though, and he keeps an eye on Nate as he dresses. (Obviously, he doesn’t stare because that’s weird, and he would never willingly stare at Nate naked. He wouldn’t stare at any of his teammates naked. …Except maybe Tyson. He would maybe look at Tyson naked. That wouldn’t be so bad. …fuck.)

Anyways, he keeps an eye on Nate and tries to pace his dressing to match because he’s already formulated a plan to follow Nate out of the locker room and see where the hell he is going to spend the night. He’s probably being unnecessarily nosy, but whatever, he’s invested now.

When Nate’s dressed, he bids Gabe goodbye and heads out the door.

JT attempts to subtly follow, slipping out of the locker room as quietly as he can.

“Nate!” He peeks around the corner and sees a woman throwing her arms around him. “You played so well. And that goal! Wow!”

“Thanks Laura,” Nate grins and turns to hug the man JT assumes is the woman’s husband. “Hey Gary.”

“It was a beautiful goal. Still not used to cheering for those against our—against the Flames,” the man says, stumbling over the words, and they all laugh knowingly.

There’s something familiar about the couple, something that niggles at the back of JT’s mind, just on the brink of his awareness.

The door opens behind him, and JT jumps in fright, spinning to see Cale walking out of the locker room.

His brow furrows. “JT, what are you doing?”

“I, uh,” he stammers, “I thought I forgot something, my…my phone! I thought I forgot my phone, but I realized it was in my pocket, so I guess I don’t need to go back in the locker room. I can just go to the bus now. I’ll do that. I’ll go to the bus. See you there.” He departs with an awkward wave and books it past Nate and the couple, wracking his brain for names because he knows them. He knows he knows them.

“Cale, sweetie!” the woman exclaims. “You did so well out there. So, so well!”

“All those workouts really paid off,” the man adds, and JT knows. He knows!

Those are Cale’s parents, his mom and his dad. Of course. He’s seen them before, has seen the video that was all over the Avs’ twitter after Cale scored his first goal in the playoffs. Cale’s from Calgary. It only makes sense that his parents came to the game.

What makes less sense though is Nate knowing Cale’s parents well enough to greet them by name and Cale’s mom hugging him like she would her own son. What makes no sense is Nate going to dinner with the Makars and apparently staying the night at their house when he has a perfectly good room back at the hotel.

JT boards the bus, head spinning, and ignores the strange look Tyson shoots him when he slides into his spot. He silently offers JT a headphone, and they listen to awful pop songs as they drive through the snowy Calgarian streets, the scenery passing by in a blur of bland grays and weak yellow from the streetlights.

When they arrive, JT shuffles over to Gabe, playing nonchalant. “Hey, where’s Nate?”

“He had a dinner to go to.”

JT frowns. “Who does he know in Calgary?”

“Some family friends.”

What the hell?

What the actual hell?

Gabe walks away, and JT is left confused and cold with too many questions ricocheting around his brain like pinballs.

Shaking his head, he heads into the lobby.

\----

**Hottest Team in the League**

Grandpa EJ (2:35PM)  
Thanksgiving dinner on Friday.  
I’ve got the turkey and ham covered.  
Who wants to bring what?

Nate Mack (2:36PM)  
Thanksgiving was a month ago, EJ.  
Has your memory really gotten that bad?

Big Tyson (2:37PM)  
^^^^  
#truth

Colin Willy (2:38PM)  
Don’t bring your Canadian bullshit in here.  
Thanksgiving is in November.

Sammy (2:39PM)  
We have more Canadians.  
Only a few Americans.

JT Comph (2:40PM)  
Few but strong.

Grandpa EJ (2:40PM)  
(murica gif)  
Anyways, we play in America.  
We celebrate American Thanksgiving.

ZZZZZZ (2:41PM)  
Sanja say we bring pelmeni.  
Good Russian food.

Colin Willy (2:42PM)  
I got the mashed potatoes.

Dramatic Landy (2:43PM)  
Mel said we’ll bring rolls.

Lil Tyson (2:43PM)  
We’ll bring a salad!!

Kerf (2:44PM)  
Who’s we?

“Kerf, come on!” Tyson shouts. “It’s not like you have a better idea for what to bring.”

“You don’t know that!”

“But my mom sent me a really good recipe that we can try!”

There’s a pause.

“Fine! Only if JT helps out.”

“Of course, I’ll help,” JT shouts from the kitchen, and Tyson cheers like the five year-old he is.

JT Comph (2:45PM)  
We’ll bring a salad.

Matty Calvert (2:47PM)  
I’ll bring kale.

Grandpa EJ (2:48PM)  
😂

Colin Willy (2:49PM)  
😆  
Yes.

Big Tyson (2:50PM)  
Oh my god. No.  
Stop with the dad jokes.  
We are not a dad team.

Colesy (2:51PM)  
Kid still not old enough to drive himself?

Mikko Mikko (2:52PM)  
I can bring drinks.

Nate Mack (2:53PM)  
I’ll bring sweet potatoes.

Grandpa EJ (2:53PM)  
🥗 = 👶

Dramatic Landy (2:54PM)  
Oh be nice.

Colin Willy (2:54PM)  
At least he’s legal to buy drinks now.

🥗🥗🥗 (2:55PM)  
Still won’t buy them for you though.

Big Tyson (2:55PM)  
Oooooooo.  
Called out, Willy.  
Ya moocher.

JT’s phone continues to light up every couple minutes, pinging with notifications as the team continues throwing chirps, but he ignores it, getting up to ask Tyson what kind of salad recipe his mom had sent because god knows not a single one of them has much talent in the kitchen.

Turns out the salad isn’t too difficult. Just lots of chopping and shredding, and JT never wants to make another again, but the finished product isn’t that bad. He’s even tempted to taste test, and that never happens for him with vegetables.

They manage to get it into EJ’s house, even though Kerf nearly spills all the dressing and Tyson almost biffs it on a sneaky patch of ice.

They’re proud when they put in on the table with the other food.

“Looks delicious,” Matt tells him when JT spends too long appreciating their leafy masterpiece, and Courtney nods her agreement.

“Thanks. It’s Tyson’s mom’s recipe,” he says, going in for a handshake and hug. “What did you guys bring? I mean, besides Cale.”

They both laugh. “We didn’t actually bring Cale,” Courtney tells him. “He’s over at Nate’s right now, helping him with the sweet potatoes. We brought the pie.” She gestures toward the desserts that take up a small table all on their own, and JT can feel his mouth water over the soft cookies and golden pies that look fresh from the oven.

He peels his eyes away from the sugar-filled treats, brow furrowing. “Nate can’t cook on his own?”

“He can; he’s actually a very good cook,” Courtney quickly reassures him. “He and Cale made this delicious lemon-baked salmon last week that even the kids enjoyed. I ended up asking him for the recipe, it was so good.”

JT’s brain grinds to a halt, short-circuiting at the words and their implication. “What?” he gapes. “Nate cooked for you? Nate and Cale cooked for you?”

Lips twisting, Matt shrugs. “Yeah, I told him that he was over enough I should start making him pay rent or something, and he volunteered to cook instead.”

“Nate hangs out at your house?” JT blurts, disbelieving.

They both have similarly offended looks on their face. “Are you saying Nate wouldn’t want to hang out with us?”

“JT,” Courtney sighs, “we may have kids, but we’re still fun.”

Flushing hotly, JT stammers out an apology, trying to explain that he didn’t mean it like that. They’re probably plenty of fun, but it just surprises him that Nate comes over to their house, when he has a perfectly good house of his own, and that he comes over enough that Matt would even need to joke about rent.

“Comph, it’s fine,” Matt finally tells him with a shit-eating grin. “We’re just messing with you.”

“Nate doesn’t come to hang out with us old folks,” Courtney admits. “He’s mostly there for Cale, and they’ll play with the boys, too, which is great. Free babysitting means more date nights.”

Nate goes over to Matt’s to hang out with Cale regularly. He leaves his comfortable, large, childless home in favor of the loud and kind of crazy Calvert home. He and Cale babysit the Calvert kids when Courtney and Matt go out on dates. What the fuck?

“You trust him to take care of your kids?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and they both nod.

“He’s good with kids,” Matt defends, “and so is Cale.”

“They’re a good team,” Courtney adds, and JT doesn’t even know what to do with any of this information.

What he wants is to run and find Tyson or Kerf and tell them all about Nate and Cale being super domestic together, cooking dinner and babysitting kids, but he knows they’ll just roll their eyes and tell him to stop being weird. They’ve been hearing about this since the barbeque in September and are tired of it, but JT can’t let it rest.

It’s weird how quickly they became friends. It’s weird how close they’ve become. It’s weird that Big Tyson doesn’t seem to mind Nate spending so much of his time with Cale, even though he’s been touchy about that kind of stuff before.

It’s weird that Nate and Cale just walked into EJ’s house together, each carrying a pan of sweet potatoes and wearing enormous grins. It’s weird how Nate helps Cale with his coat after they’ve set the food down, dragging it down his arms and tossing it onto one of the hooks. It’s weird how close they stand when they’re lining up to get food, Nate nearly pressed against his back, speaking right into Cale’s ear with a devious smile. It’s weird how they crash on the couch together after eating, Nate’s head drooping to rest on Cale’s shoulder.

It’s weird to JT, though nobody else seems to even notice.

\----

“Way to be late guys,” Big Tyson grumps when JT, Tyson, and Kerf finally pull up to the designated meeting spot. (It’s not really their fault. They had started watching Queer Eye that morning and gotten sucked in by the good fashion advice and heart-warming storylines. In their defense, it seems like the best show to watch before going Christmas shopping.)

“We were doing research,” Tyson informs them all, and JT and Kerf nod gravely.

“You could have started without us,” Kerf points out. “I mean, we’re planning on splitting up anyways, right?”

“Yes,” Big Tyson huffs, “but still. We wanted to all start on time, and then meet up for dinner to see who got the best presents.”

“This is a competition?” EJ asks, eyes lighting up dangerously.

“No,” Gabe replies firmly and looks around the gathered circle to make sure everyone understands how much this is not a competition. “This is about helping each other find the best gifts for the people we care about. Love is not a competition.”

EJ hoots, but he doesn’t object and even manages to not make a snarky comment in return.

“Excellent, now how shall we divide up?” Tyson grins.

“I am going with mon chum,” Sammy says and steps over to EJ, who reaches out for a high-five.

“Tyson would be lost without our color guidance,” JT declares, and Tyson looks caught between affront and gratitude.

“I can go with you and Gabe?” Mikko asks, and the kid’s been here for years, has become one of their closest friends. He shouldn’t need to make that a question.

“Of course, you’re coming with us,” Gabe replies and tosses an arm around Mikko’s shoulder, dragging him close. “It’ll be like a repeat of Valentine’s Day!”

Tyson nods in enthusiastic agreement, and Mikko smiles softly.

“Guess, I’m stuck with Nate,” Cale says, and Nate gives him a light shove (really it’s more of a gentle nudge with his shoulder, a love tap were JT to be so bold).

Neither looks upset at the arrangement, and JT would bet all the cash in his wallet that they’d already been planning on going together and would have protested if anyone had tried to divide them.

“Cool, looks like we’re set then,” Tyson says. “We’ll meet back here at five. Don’t be late.”

He gives them a significant look, and JT wants to protest but doesn’t, just follows after Kerf and Tyson when they start walking towards some shop that smells heavily of lavender because Tyson wants to get his sister a million of the bath bombs she’s obsessed with.

They come out smelling like rotten flowers in JT’s opinion, but Tyson is happily holding a bag of assorted spa items, and that’s all that really matters. They make their way to a clothing store next because you can never go wrong there, and JT finds it much more enjoyable than the lavender hell.

“Laura would like jewelry, right?” JT hears when they’ve made their way deep into the department store maze, and he perks up. That’s Nate’s voice.

Who’s Laura? he wonders, peeking over the tower of shoe boxes some poor retail worker had shaped into a tree.

“I guess,” Cale replies, though he doesn’t look or sound very sure. “She wears earrings a lot and bracelets sometimes, but she’s not really a necklace person.”

Does Cale have a girlfriend they’re buying presents for?

Nate groans. “Fuck, I thought my mom was hard to shop for.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Cale tells him, laying a hand on Nate’s arm where they’re standing in front of the glittering jewelry cases, looking over the selection of rings and bracelets and shiny charms. “You don’t have to get her the perfect gift. She’s not expecting that.”

Does _Nate_ have a girlfriend?

“But I want to,” Nate groans. “She has to like it…or at least not hate it.” The words taper off into a sigh, and Cale’s hand rubs up and down his arm in soothing strokes.

Does Nate have a _serious_ girlfriend?

“She’s going to love it no matter what, I promise. Pretty sure you could make her a homemade card like we did in elementary, and she’d love it.”

That…would be a strange gift for a girlfriend.

The suggestion breaks the tension though, and JT can see Nate visibly relax with a heavy exhale, sagging against Cale just slightly.

He mutters something too low for JT to hear, and Cale’s reply is just as soft.

JT stares.

They stay there for another minute or two, speaking lowly, Cale’s hand still on Nate’s arm, until Nate’s head suddenly snaps up and he grins widely.

“Hawaii,” he says in awe.

“What?”

“That’s it. Hawaii.”

Cale looks about as confused as JT feels. “What do you mean?”

“We should take them to Hawaii. Once the season is over.” Nate’s smile is growing bigger with every word. “We can rent a beach house or something, somewhere private and far away from the crowded tourist areas. Your parents and mine and Taylor and Sarah.”

This is—this is not about a girlfriend.

“You want to take our families to Hawaii?”

“Yeah,” Nate answers, grinning, and now he’s the one holding Cale’s arms. “They would love that. We would love that! A week on the beach before we start training. Our moms would love hanging out under an umbrella with some fruity drinks, talking while we snorkel. I’m pretty sure they talk to each other more than they talk to us at this point.”

What the fuck?

“And with Taylor and Sarah, we’d have enough to play volleyball or soccer or—hey! We could even take sticks and play ball hockey, get some new photos of you in the sand with a hockey stick.”

There are _old_ photos of Cale in the sand with a hockey stick? Is JT supposed to know about this?

“And our dads could drink beers and talk about work or something.”

Cale laughs, not meanly; it’s more surprise and disbelief than anything else. “You really want to take our families to Hawaii for a week?”

“Yes.”

“Rent a house and stay on the beach?”

“Yes.”

JT has so many questions, so many fucking questions.

“Is that going to be our Christmas present to all of them then?”

_Their_ Christmas present?

Nate nods enthusiastically, grin childishly wide.

“Okay,” Cale says. “Okay. Yeah, that’s—we can—are you sure?” he asks, looking at Nate questioningly.

“Absolutely.”

Cale bites at his lip, then nods once. “Okay. We can do that. We—we’re going to Hawaii. We’re taking our families to Hawaii.”

“Hawaii,” Nate echoes happily.

“I guess it’s a good thing we haven’t actually found gifts for anyone else then, huh,” Cale says, expression mirroring Nate’s. “Should we just book something for after the awards? Or wait and see how playoffs shake out?”

“After the awards, definitely after the awards. Besides…” Nate leans close, and it’s still strange to see how comfortable they are in each other’s space.

JT doesn’t mind a good bro cuddle now and then, has fallen asleep in Tyson’s bed more times than he can count at this point, but this is a whole other level. Nate is whispering right into Cale’s ear, one hand sitting comfortably on his hip, and Cale is flushing a vibrant red, paying rapt attention to every word.

When he pulls away, Nate is smirking, and Cale pushes at him lightly, but then he nods and whispers what JT is pretty sure is a rough yes, and Nate looks triumphant, like he just came up with a particularly good chirp or managed to score the GWG in overtime. They smile at each other for a moment before Cale suggests they go look at a new game Nate wanted to buy for himself, and they walk away with matching grins.

JT looks around frantically, tries to see if anyone else saw that exchange, if anyone else just witnessed the ridiculousness of his teammates, but somehow—SOMEHOW—no one else is around. Tyson and Kerf are over by the perfume, and the jewelry attendant is conspicuously absent, and this store is remarkably unpopulated this close to Christmas. (It is the middle of the day though. Most people have school and work.)

Dumbfounded, JT emerges from his impromptu hiding place and makes his way over to Kerf and Tyson in a daze.

“JT! There you are,” Tyson shouts. “Smell this,” he orders and thrusts his wet wrist in JT’s face.

He sneezes.

“It’s not that bad!”

He sneezes again, and Tyson pouts.

“Fine, I’ll find something else.” He waltzes over to another display with pictures of flowers and bare arms and grabs a bottle at random.

JT follows mindlessly.

Laura…Laura must be Cale’s mom. JT thinks he remembers Nate calling her that when they met up in Calgary. So Laura is Cale’s mom, not someone’s girlfriend, and Nate was looking to buy her a present. Actually, it sounded like he was going to buy presents for Cale’s mom and dad and his…brother? Sister? Sibling. And Cale was going to do the same for Nate’s family?

So they decided that the best thing to do is to take their families—together!—to Hawaii and spend a week on a private beach once the season ends because their moms are good friends and Nate wants to recreate pictures of Cale playing hockey in the sand.

What the fuck.

This is…this is not buddies.

This is not friends.

This is not even _best_ friends.

Holy shit.

Holy motherfucking shit.

\----

JT is understandably distracted the next few days.

Two of his teammates are—he’s 99% sure—together, like _together_ together. As in dating. As in sleeping together if the gnarly hickey on Nate’s chest and the scratch marks down Cale’s back a couple of days later are any indication.

But no one seems to notice.

Oh, they notice the marks, and they give them shit for it, but no one seems to think there’s any connection between the two. No one wonders if the person who gave Nate the hickey is the same person with scratches down his back.

But JT thinks, and JT wonders, and the more he looks, the more he sees.

Nate and Cale seem to almost gravitate towards each other on the plane or at dinners, sharing headphones and bites of food (JT is amazed they don’t just feed each other, opting instead to steal food from or push a bite onto the other’s plate). When they go out to a club or bar, one will usually disappear and return with a drink for the other without anything being said, and then they’ll stay in the booth all night, neither even looking at the girls that will dance by with flirty eyes.

It’s glaringly obvious now that JT knows what he is looking at.

He just doesn’t know what to do with this new knowledge.

\----

“That was a good practice, boys,” Gabe says, coming to the end of his impromptu speech. “Let’s keep that up tomorrow, so we can start Christmas break with a win.”

There are some nods and shouts of agreement, and Gabe grins in approval.

“Now, I want to give a minute or two to Nate,” he continues and gestures to where Nate is seated in his locker, looking a little sick and a lot nervous. “He has an important announcement.”

JT straightens up, worry rushing through him. Maybe Nate got hurt and will be out tomorrow. Maybe his dog died. Maybe he’s asking for a trade. Oh hell no.

“Right,” Nate says, standing up. “I have something I need to tell you guys, and I want to start by saying that I trust you all. We are a team and a family, and I think this is something that I—we—need to share with you, and I hope it’s not something that will cause any problems.”

Gabe lays a hand on his shoulder, and EJ crosses his arms with a hard look on his face.

Nate lets out a slow breath. “Cool, right, yeah.”

The entire team stares at him, confusion and worry writ across their faces, and JT tries not to think about all of the horrible things that he could say.

“Cale and I are together,” Nate blurts quickly, wringing his hands in front of him.

JT’s brain malfunctions.

“Could you repeat that?” Mikko asks, eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe slower this time.”

“Oh sorry, sorry. Yeah, I can—yeah.” He huffs out a laugh, sounding strained. “Cale and I,” he says, waving to where Cale sits in his locker, “we’re together.”

It’s so quiet JT swears he can hear the Zamboni resurfacing the ice.

Almost as one, the team turns to stare at Cale, who stares calmly back. He lifts a hand and offers a small wave.

Chaos ensues.

“Holy fucking shit!” Colin yells, leaping to his feet. “Holy—oh my god, are you serious?”

“You’re together?” Colesy shouts “Like _together_?”

“Means you’re dating, yes?” Mikko asks.

“My roommate?” Sammy cries. “You’ve stolen my roommate?”

Nate looks overwhelmed. “That’s not—I mean, that doesn’t really—you’re still roommates, Sammy. That doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“How long?” Grubi hollers. “When did it start?”

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” Tyson breathes. “Holy shit, the matching costumes. The matching costumes!” he screams, turning to Kerf and shaking him. “They wore matching costumes to Halloween. Couples wear matching costumes. Oh my god, JT was right to think it was weird.” Tyson spins to look at JT. “Holy shit.”

“Is you who leave marks?” Z asks placidly, and that sets off another round of shouting.

Somewhere in all the confusion and shouted questions, Cale is herded across the locker room until he stumbles into Nate’s side, and they stand next to each other, faces red and arms limp at their sides.

The whole team stares.

“You don’t look like a couple,” someone says, and Nate scoffs.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s true though,” Colin agrees, giving them an up-down. “You don’t really look like a couple. Is it because this is a new thing? Are you still awkward around each other?”

“We’re not awkward!”

“It’s not a new thing.”

The words pull everyone’s gaze away from Nate’s angry red cheeks and over to Cale’s heavy flush.

“What?”

“It’s not a new thing,” Cale repeats, shoulders squared as he meets Colin’s eye. “We’ve been dating since the offseason.”

“Oh my god!”

“Since offseason?”

“What the fuck?”

“The hell? How?”

“Thought you stayed at home all summer, Nate?”

“How the fuck this happen?”

“When?”

“Who knew?”

When the question rings out, heads begin turning this way and that, and fingers are pointed.

“Tyson definitely knew!” other Tyson shouts with an accusing finger extended. “No way Nate wouldn’t tell him.”

“Gabe knew, too,” Mikko says. “I’m sure of it.”

“Matt!” Colin yelps. “Matt, Cale lives with you. You had to know!”

Shaking his head, Matt shrugs. “I didn’t know,” but he doesn’t seem particularly surprised by the news, JT notices.

“And EJ!” Kerf adds. “EJ definitely knew, otherwise he’d be chirping them so hard right now.”

“Wait!” Colesy is on his feet, arms thrown wide and hands up. “Wait. Guys, guys. Do we actually believe this?” he asks, looking around to meet everyone’s eyes. “I mean, come on, EJ, Tyson, and Gabe knew? The three guys on this team who love causing the most shit. And Nate! Those four together are nothing but trouble.”

There are quiet murmurs and frowning nods.

“They just got Cale in on it, too, because no one would ever suspect the baby-faced rookie to fuck with us like this. Guys, come on, Matt didn’t even know they were ‘dating’ and Cale lives with him.”

“Are you saying you think this is a prank?” Nate growls, incredulous and angry, and JT winces at the tone. Nate has a temper, yes. A bad temper, yes. But he never gets mad off the ice, never lets the frustration boil over outside of hockey. “Are you fucking kidding me? We tell you we’re dating, and you think it’s a lie?”

“We have no proof!” Colesy replies, and there are more nods.

“All we have is your word, and EJ, Gabe, and Tyson’s. And Cale’s,” Colin adds skeptically, and JT wonders if he should speak up, tell everyone that he also knew that they were dating.

No. That would be weird. That would require far too many explanations that he isn’t willing to give. No, he’ll just let them take care of this.

“Proof?” Nate repeats, and JT can see the hand Cale has resting at the small of his back, calming him down or holding him back. “We don’t need to give you proof!”

“You have to admit, Nate,” EJ suddenly pipes up, and Nate whips his head around to glare at him, “we don’t exactly have the best track record for this. Can you really blame them?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Nate hisses, betrayed, and EJ smiles back beatifically.

Colesy eyes EJ like he doesn’t know if his agreement is a good thing or not. “Yeah,” he goes on, dragging the word out, “we need more than your word.”

“What do you mean?” Cale asks, cool and collected, cutting Nate off before he can start shouting again. “What kind of proof?”

“Uh,” Colesy stutters, eyes bugging out, “I don’t—I don’t know. You need to—you have to do something coupley. Like, I don’t know. You need to do something that would prove you’re together.”

Cale blinks at him. “Right,” he says.

Then he turns, fists a hand in Nate’s shirt, and drags him into a kiss, open-mouthed and searching.

“Holy shit,” Colesy gasps.

Tyson lets out a high-pitched squeak, and Kerf’s mouth drops open.

Cale loops an arm around Nate’s neck and rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands until Nate lets out a truly indecent groan.

“Oh my fucking god,” someone murmurs.

“Jesus.”

The kiss never seems to end, and JT has never felt more uncomfortable and aroused in his life. It’s obvious they’ve done this a million times before, that they know their way around each other’s mouths and bodies. There’s a familiarity there that speaks to months and months together, learning each other inside and out, and JT should not be reacting like this. Not at all.

Cale pulls back, Nate’s bottom lip caught between his teeth, and JT bends forward, curling around his half-chub in shame. Jesus fucking Christ.

There’s an obscene, slick sound when they finally separate, and their heavy breathing is loud in the ensuing quiet.

“Still think it’s a prank?” Cale asks, and his voice is low and gravely, and JT never needed to know that he could sound like that.

“No.”

“Definitely not.”

“Holy shit, guys.”

“Not a prank.”

“My eyes are burning.”

“Alright assholes,” Nate says roughly, and JT cannot deal with this. “You have your proof. This isn’t a prank. Anymore dumbass questions?”

“No.”

“None.”

“You guys aren’t going to be like this all the time, are you?”

“No,” Nate scowls. “We wouldn’t have been like this now, if you weren’t so fucking nosy and had just believed us.”

Before anymore snarky words can be spoken, Gabe claps his hands. “That is the announcement Nate wanted to make. I hope you can all join me in congratulating them, and I hope,” he continues with a fierce look, “that you all understand that this is not something to be shared with others. It was their choice to let you know, and it’s their choice to let anyone else know. Is that clear?”

Everyone nods emphatically.

“Good.”

\----

JT doesn’t know what to expect the next day when he enters the Pepsi Center, doesn’t know if he’ll see Cale and Nate coming in together and know that they probably spent the night at Nate’s house (in Nate’s bed, holy shit), doesn’t know if they’ll be touchy in the locker room now that everyone knows.

With a fortifying breath, he slips through the doors. Cale is already at his locker, half-dressed as he pulls on his skates, and Nate is nowhere to be seen. Okay, this is okay. Things haven’t changed that much.

He greets Mikko and pats Colesy’s shoulder before heading to his own locker to get dressed.

More guys file in, and it feels like any other day.

Nate is one of the last to arrive, coming through the doors with Tyson on his heels, talking about the new Blizzard that he has to try. When he passes Cale’s locker, he stops briefly and lays a hand on his shoulder, sliding it behind his neck. Cale reaches up to hold his wrist, and they exchange whispered words before Nate lets go and makes his way to his own locker, and that’s it. A quick touch and a quiet conversation, nothing more, and JT wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t been watching for it. This is fine. They’re still the same team.

As they finish suiting up, the music that had been blasting through the sound system suddenly cuts out.

“Probably, uh, Pekka Rinne in our division. We see him a lot,” and that’s Nate’s voice coming over the speakers, followed by the sound of a cheering crowd and commentators running their mouths.

Everyone stops what they are doing to listen, many shooting Nate confused looks that he mirrors.

“I think that when you beat him it’s more of like the simple shot, but when you think you have an open net or you might have the advantage on him, he just is so long and athletic that he makes crazy saves. Yeah I do find it really tough to score on Pekka.”

“Fitness and nutrition is obviously a really important thing,” another voice says, probably the interviewer if JT had to guess. “What is your diet like? What is your diet like now as you try to get in your best shape?”

A vivid red blush breaks across Nate’s face, and JT perks up, pays as close attention as he can.

“I eat clean,” interviewed Nate says, “a lot of kale.”

There’s a record scratch, and the sound of a tape rewinding.

“I eat clean, a lot of kale.”

Nate looks angry and embarrassed, and it rewinds again.

“I eat clean, a lot of kale.”

The sound cuts out abruptly, and the silence that follows is suffocating. Jaw tense and fists clenched, Nate looks ready to shout down every single person in the room until someone confesses to making the clip.

Suddenly, a muffled snort disrupts the painful stillness, and another quickly follows.

Wide-eyed, JT turns to see who the hell has the guts to laugh when Nate looks ready to drop the gloves, and it’s Cale. Of course it’s Cale.

His shoulders shake; his eyes crinkle; and he has a gloved hand held up to try and stifle the laughter. He’s looking right at Nate, shaking his head back and forth like he’s not even worried about Nate’s reaction—which, he probably isn’t. He is the boyfriend after all.

Still shaking with laughter, Cale shrugs in a what-can-you-do sort of way, and JT swears he can see the fight go right out of Nate, fading away faster than it came, and holy fucking shit, the kid has him wrapped around his goddamn finger.

Nate huffs then lets out a soft laugh.

Big Tyson joins in, and it spreads to Gabe and EJ, then to Mikko and Sammy, until the whole room is laughing, bent over their knees like middle schoolers hearing a new dirty joke for the first time.

JT laughs with them, and it feels good, feels normal. Nothing has really changed.

When everyone more or less has control of themselves, EJ calls for their attention.

“Alright you fuckers,” he begins, still grinning, “I don’t know who made that clip,” and JT doubts that very much, “but that’s the only free shot I’m going to allow. Same rules apply to them as any other guys, yeah? I don’t want to hear any jokes about what you think they do together, just like I don’t want to hear any jokes about what you think Gabe or Z or anyone else in this room does in bed with their partner. Got it?”

Everyone nods, and they make their way out to the ice for warmups.

\----

JT doesn’t mean to listen in when they’re lining up to go out for the game later; it’s just become a habit over the last couple months.

He doesn’t catch every word, but he definitely hears Nate say something about eating and maybe something about crying, and his hand is on Cale’s ass, even though there’s no way he can get a proper feel with all the pads in the way, so JT thinks he has a pretty good idea what is being said.

Cale shoves him in the chest, and Nate rocks back with a grin.

“Only if you score,” he tells him.

Nate smirks, wicked and knowing. “Score on the ice, then score in bed?”

Cale groans (JT would groan, too, because that was a truly shitty line), but he doesn’t disagree, just bumps his shoulder into Nate’s and walks forward when they start down the tunnel.

“What if I get a hat trick?” Nate asks, and Cale spins around.

Holy fuck, are those his bedroom eyes?

“Get one tonight, and we can find out,” he challenges, and that’s definitely his bedroom voice.

Jesus fuck.

EJ needs to makes some new rules. They should not be allowed to flirt during games or practice. JT should not have to hear whatever weird, foreplay bullshit this is.

He’ll talk to him about it later.

After the game.

And after Cale and Nate have left.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, I'd love to know through kudos, comments, or [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crooked-silence).
> 
> P.S. The "a lot of kale" line and those leading up to it can be found in [this interview](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKReeyUGdTw).


End file.
